


(when you look like that) i never ever wanted to be so bad

by hipsterchrist



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Aftercare, Blow Jobs, Cock Warming, Come Eating, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dry Humping, Face-Fucking, Fantasy Fulfillment, Kink Exploration, Leather Kink, Love, M/M, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Riding Crops, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:07:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22538269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hipsterchrist/pseuds/hipsterchrist
Summary: “How many times have I told you now?” Henry asks, voice still quiet. “In the bedroom, we’re equals.” Alex knows a door left ajar intentionally when he sees it.“But we’re not in the bedroom, are we?” he mutters. Henry smirks and turns away. Alex nearly falls over trying to follow the loss of Henry’s hand on his face.“It certainly would seem that way,” Henry says, loud and clear, leaning against the wall again. “And so I will have to insist on some degree of deference. Do you think you can manage that?”Or, Alex has a fantasy involving a tack room and Henry's polo uniform, and Henry is all too happy to fulfill it.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 44
Kudos: 712





	(when you look like that) i never ever wanted to be so bad

**Author's Note:**

> I read this book in seven (7) hours. Was shocked at the utter lack of tack room porn fic. So here's my contribution. 
> 
> Title from Troye Sivan's "WILD."

There’s hay under his knees. Actual, literal, honest to fucking god _hay_ , of _is for horses but grass is cheaper_ fame. Maybe if he was still wearing his jeans, he wouldn’t be able to feel it, but. Well. Henry already gave _that_ order, and so now here it is, digging sharply into his bare skin.

It’s Alex’s fault there’s any hay in the first place, to be fair. Henry had protested, actually - in the name of _authenticity_ , of all the boring fucking things.

“It’s the _tack room_ , you beautiful idiot,” Henry said just shy of a month ago, rubbing his foot against the hard curve of Alex’s ankle as they sat outside a cafe in Paris. It was the same cafe as Before - before they were public, before they were outed, before the convention, just before the Buzzfeed article about their _bromance_ \- but it felt different in the After. Cozier. Prettier. More honest.

“You say ‘tack room,’ I still say ‘rich white people sex dungeon,’” Alex said with a shrug.

“The point is that horses don’t go _in_ there,” Henry said. “It’s just a place to store all the equipment. And, typically, people have spent a considerable amount of money on the floors and want to show off whatever hardwood or tile they’ve got installed so their enormous wealth can be fawned over by all who enter. There’s no hay littered about.”

“Okay, but--” Alex looked down at his plate, cluttered with bread crumbs and smears of butter. “What if--there was?”

“Then it would be roughly the 1800s, I imagine,” Henry said, “and if you thought things were difficult for us now, well, then--”

“What if it was 2021 and there was hay on the tack room floor because this is my fantasy and it can be whatever I want?” Alex asked. Henry was quiet for so long that Alex looked up to meet his eyes.

“Part of your fantasy - which I have been extremely on board with, to be clear - is to--” Henry bit his lip, opened and closed his mouth a few times, before finally finishing, “--to kneel before me on a dirty stable floor like--like--like _the help_ in the nineteenth century?” Alex swallowed, licked his lips. Hearing it spelled out like that in Henry’s pompous royal accent made it feel _heavy_ in a way it hadn’t when it was all just inside Alex’s head, but--yes. _Yes._

“What can I say?” he asked, trying for casual and failing abysmally. “I live to serve you, my liege.” Henry let out a sharp exhale.

“No one has said ‘my liege’ since the feudal system,” he said softly, “and it wouldn’t even be appropriate for me, since I’m not a lord. Or is that part of your fantasy, too?” Alex snorted.

“No, I don’t have a single fantasy wherein I am a literal _serf_ ,” he said. “I can call you whatever you want me to call you. It's--whatever you tell me to do, I--I’m--”

“Alright, love,” Henry said soothingly, leaning forward and resting his hand on Alex’s, squeezing. “I’ll choose something you’ll like.” Alex smiled then, and turned his hand over under Henry’s, but Henry’s fingers tightened slightly around his wrist. “One more question.”

“Yeah?”

“In this fantasy of yours,” Henry said, pitching his voice lower, “I’m fresh off the field, yes? Or shall I shower first?” Alex swallowed again, cleared his throat.

“No need to shower,” he said with a truly embarrassing shrill, heat rising to his face at the memory of the tack room at the stables in Connecticut, of Henry’s skin still warm and pink and sweaty. A ghost of a smirk passed Henry's face before coming back, no doubt to haunt Alex personally. Henry nodded once, annoyingly smug, and leaned back in his chair, tracing Alex's knuckles with his fingertips.

"Glad to have all that cleared up," Henry said. "I look forward to arranging this for you."

"God, shut _up_ ," Alex groaned - but that was three weeks ago, and now….

Jesus. Now Alex wishes Henry would say _anything_. 

“Would you just--”

“Did I give you permission to speak?” Henry cuts in, sounding bored. Alex grits his teeth, energy buzzing underneath his skin, and the only thing that keeps him from opening his mouth again is the sound of Henry’s footsteps moving closer. He looks up as Henry crosses by him, completing the agonizingly slow circle he’s been making of Alex’s body before coming to rest in a lean against the wall in front of Alex. Confidence sparks off of him like fire. Alex feels like the air has been stolen from his very lungs.

“That’s better,” Henry says, apparently pleased at Alex’s uncharacteristic silence - his _obedience_ , Alex realizes, with an embarrassing twitch of his dick. Henry smiles sweetly down at him. “Isn’t your mouth what got you into this trouble in the first place?”

Alex purses his lips, unsure, and searches Henry’s face for any further indication of the scenario. He left it up to Henry, what this fantasy situation actually is, how they’ll be playing it. The only thing that mattered to Alex was the physicality of it all - the location, Henry’s clothes, his own position for the majority of the time. Henry’s got a story in mind, and Alex is sure it’s brilliant and hot and satisfying, but he’s not sure what exactly it is yet, and he’s not getting much else to go on yet until Henry heaves a great sigh, rolls his eyes, and continues.

“I was told there was a servant on bad behavior,” he says, loud and unimpressed. “Imagine my shock to discover that it’s you I’ve been sent to _see to_. Again.” Alex quirks his mouth up into a smirk, is about to talk back, thinks he’s figured out the game, but then Henry steps closer to him again, close enough to reach out his gloved hand and brush Alex’s face with his leather-clad knuckles. 

“We have to stop meeting like this, my dear, or else we’ll be found out,” Henry says quietly, and Alex’s breath stutters in his throat as he looks into Henry’s eyes and finds a softness there that he recognizes as home. He smiles, slow and small, and doesn’t know how he thought it could ever be anything different than this. Henry, the truly hopeless romantic, has dreamed up a secret-forbidden-lovers-in-a-dangerous-time scenario for Alex’s ridiculous polo-uniform-leather-gloves-leather-other-things-maybe-let’s-find-out kink because he can’t imagine a universe in which he _doesn’t_ love Alex, in which Alex doesn’t love _him_.

And, fuck, Alex is _so_ in love with him.

“I’m sorry, your Highness,” Alex says. Henry glances toward the tack room doors, where imaginary people are waiting nearby, maybe, in the part of this fantasy that’s Henry’s. Alex can picture it, higher ranks and lords of whatevers, snitching on a servant with a smart mouth and expecting to overhear evidence of a punishment. They wouldn’t have heard Henry’s first command - firm in tone but still soft spoken - for him to undress. They only would have heard the second one. _Kneel._

“How many times have I told you now?” Henry asks, voice still quiet. “In the bedroom, we’re equals.” Alex knows a door left ajar intentionally when he sees it.

“But we’re not in the bedroom, are we?” he mutters. Henry smirks and turns away. Alex nearly falls over trying to follow the loss of Henry’s hand on his face.

“It certainly would seem that way,” Henry says, loud and clear, leaning against the wall again. “And so I will have to insist on _some_ degree of deference. Do you think you can manage that?”

“I’ll do my best, sir,” Alex says, taking a guess at what Henry wants to be called. A small, approving nod puts a little gold star on Alex’s heart and a simmering heat low in his belly.

“There. Now was that so hard?” Henry says condescendingly, and then, with a glance down at Alex’s cock, adds, “Well. Something is, at least. I’ll give you that.” Alex rolls his eyes and Henry raises an eyebrow.

“Sorry, sir,” Alex says after a moment. Henry hums and raises a hand to his own neck, rubbing at the pink skin there. Pink and warm and glistening with sweat. Alex wants to lick him. He bites his lip at the thought of merely _starting_ at Henry’s neck, before following the sweat down into the dip of his collarbone, down his chest and abs and under--

“Were you in this state when you obeyed my first order? I wasn’t watching,” Henry says. Alex knows it’s a lie, and he wants to laugh at it, but-- _obeyed_ , Henry said, and oh, that did something funny to Alex’s brain.

Fuck. It shouldn’t make him feel so dizzy.

“Yes, sir,” he says. Christ, his voice is already hoarse. Henry laughs, taunting, touching the wrist of his glove. Alex exhales.

“What _is_ it about this uniform?” he asks. Alex opens his mouth and says the first thing that comes to mind.

“I wanna bite your thighs through your stupid white pants.” It comes out gruffly but goddamn, is it honest.

“Could you?” Henry asks curiously. “The material isn’t exactly thin, but I might like to see you try one day.” Alex inhales. Henry hasn’t even had the decency to break eye contact to glance down at himself, so Alex is like. Buzzing. Burning. _On edge_ , and dangerously close to admitting he could also, maybe, one day, be talked into licking Henry’s stupid boots - _knee-high_ , for fuck’s sake, and why does nobody ever talk about how _gay_ polo is? - but thankfully Henry makes an abrupt movement that loosens the tension wringing tight in Alex’s blood.

“Hands behind your back,” Henry says - orders. Alex swallows and obeys and watches Henry walk toward him again until he can’t, until Henry’s circled back behind him to tie his wrists together with a thin strip of leather that came from who knows where. Alex knows it’s not reins - he’s looking at half a wall full right now and nothing is missing - but he would’ve noticed if Henry had removed his belt, which. _Oh._ They might have to try _that_ sometime, too, but--

Two taps on his elbow. A silent check in. _Color?_ Alex’s heart swells. He touches his middle finger to his thumb three times - _Green_. Henry leans down to press a kiss to the crown of his head and Alex has a ridiculous urge to cry about it, but Henry tightens the leather a little more, distracting him.

“Shoulders back,” Henry demands, as if Alex has the room to slouch like this. He winks at Alex’s glare and pokes at his shoulder. “ _Back._ ” Alex sighs and forces his shoulders back further. It’s uncomfortable, but so is the hay and the cold wood floor under his knees, and Henry’s still standing in front of him in his polo whites - and yeah, Alex is _still_ getting mileage out of the jokes that write themselves about _polo whites_ \- and the bulge of his cock is visible, and Alex can’t concentrate on any discomfort or jokes about wealth and race when his mouth is watering.

“I do have a punishment in mind for you,” Henry says, “since you _must_ behave so appallingly--” Alex smiles winningly up at him. “--But first, I’m much more interested in what you can do _for_ me.”

“In this position?” Alex says, his tone perfectly innocent as he tugs against the leather fruitlessly, testing. “How _ever_ can I serve you in _this_ position, sir?” Henry’s smirk has a glowing quality about it, which means he’s employing it to keep from outright laughing. Alex _loves_ him.

“I can think of a few ways,” Henry says lowly, stepping directly in front of Alex now, crowding the entirety of his vision. “Look up at me. If you look down before I give you permission, I stop," he says, so Alex does as he's told, looks up at Henry's untouchably gorgeous face, and only then does Henry begin unbuckling his belt. Alex shudders at the promise of it, at the sight of movement that's visible to him of Henry's elbows completing a familiar motion, at the clink of a belt buckle followed by the slow hiss of a zipper being drawn down, at the intensity of Henry's gaze holding his own, and the fact that Henry isn't even letting him _look_ \- Alex shudders, yes, but he doesn't look down. 

Because Henry hasn't given him _permission_.

There's the sound of soft cotton against leather, a motion of finality, and the barely there scent of precome that almost makes him lose the game, _almost_ makes him look down, just to see for himself how into this Henry is, too, but he bites his lip and blinks rapidly against the desire to lower his eyes. He won't get what he wants if he looks down. And what he wants, he _wants_.

"Good," Henry says, and Alex gets another gold star near his groin. "Let's see how good you really can be. Open your mouth."

 _Finally._ Something Alex can _do_.

" _Only_ open your mouth," Henry says after Alex obeys. Alex blinks up at him, silent and confused. "Do nothing else until I say otherwise, or I'll stop. Nod if you understand." Alex hesitates a moment before nodding. Whatever this is will be torture for him, he knows. Sweet, exquisite torture with a blindingly beautiful ending, but torture nonetheless. 

Henry takes a small final step closer and Alex begins to tremble, anticipation and denial twisting at him in equal measure. Some sort of something must show in his eyes, because Henry pauses to gently tap twice just above Alex's ear.

"You can speak," he says quietly, concerned, and Alex shudders again.

"Can I just--close my eyes? Sir?" he asks, and god, it comes out _meekly_. He'd be more embarrassed if he weren't already so exposed, if Henry didn't already have all of him.

"Of course, love," Henry says, and then, mercifully, he makes it an order. "Close your eyes." Alex does, and instantly he feels the thrumming in his veins level out to something he can endure. 

"Thank you, sir," he says with genuine gratitude. He feels the leather of Henry's glove stroke the side of his face again, only once before it's gone, but it's enough to steady him, to remind him. He opens his mouth again and waits.

The slide of Henry's cock between his lips, across his tongue, is so good that Alex can't help moaning out his relief. Henry grips at Alex's hair - a wordless warning, a _remember your orders_ \- and Alex silences himself, schools his own desire, but it isn't easy, and he knows it’s only temporary. The hand in Alex’s hair slides to the back of his head. Alex’s cock throbs painfully.

“Just stay still,” Henry says, “or I’ll stop.” Alex breathes out slowly, enjoys the drop of precome he gets on his tongue as a reward for it, and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Alex was expecting Henry to fuck his mouth - that was part of the whole fucking fantasy, after all - but Henry hasn’t moved, seems perfectly content with holding Alex in place, his cock resting heavily in Alex’s warm mouth. Alex fists his hands behind his back and counts in his head to one hundred in Spanish, then again in English, and finally rips opens his eyes in what he hopes is a lustful yet furious way. He’s practically _enraged_ to see Henry looking down at him, grinning.

“You lasted a lot longer than I expected,” he says, impressed. “Very good.” Alex gives a quick growl at the back of his throat, and Henry’s cock isn’t even fully inside his mouth but the vibrations must reach anyway, because Henry’s smirk falters for the briefest moment. “ _Ah_ , no,” he says, regaining composure easily. Alex feels a degree of satisfaction nonetheless.

“But you are correct,” Henry says. “As much as I enjoy the sight of your lips open around my cock--” He strokes at Alex’s ear; the feeling of leather on his skin makes Alex shiver. “--I do grow impatient for more.” His hand drifts slowly down from Alex’s earlobe to his jaw to his neck, where he rubs his thumb down and up and down the column of Alex’s throat. Alex feels an electric shock at the promise again, at the reminder. His mouth is watering again. His nostrils flare.

“What you can do for me,” Henry says, low and slow and dark in a way that sends a thrill down Alex’s spine, “is let me fuck your pretty, impudent mouth.” Alex has a split second to marvel at how Henry is the _only person on earth_ who could use the word _impudent_ in dirty talk and make it sound legitimately sexy before he’s unable to think about much of anything, before Henry is _fucking his pretty, impudent mouth_.

It’s a slow rhythm at first - a courtesy that Alex resents a little, because he’s been _practicing_ , dammit - but it’s deliciously thorough. Alex can take Henry to the root now, made a big weird celebration of it two weeks ago when he was finally able to deepthroat for the first time, and Henry isn’t letting his new skill go to waste. Alex squares his shoulders and lets his eyes drift shut again and _takes_ it, all the way to the back of his throat, and counts to three with his nose pressed against Henry’s pelvis, breathing in as Henry pulls out. His jaw was already sore from the minutes he sat still with Henry’s cock in his mouth doing absolutely nothing, and it takes no time at all for the ache to really set in, but Henry is following the line of his lips stretched wide around Henry’s cock with his thumb, still clad in the leather glove, and Alex is so searingly hot for it that he just tries to open his mouth even further, a wordless petition for Henry to slip a finger alongside his cock, to really see how much Alex can take.

Henry doesn’t take the bait - this time - but he does say, “So good, love, so beautiful,” and that’s almost as satisfying.

Alex chokes a little when Henry eventually quickens his pace, but Henry doesn’t let up, just taps his finger twice against Alex’s cheek. Alex opens his eyes and blinks them three times. Henry nods and licks his lips and says, “Good,” and then, like seeing Alex like this is too much, tears his gaze away from Alex’s face and tips his head all the way back. There are involuntary tears in Alex’s eyes but he blinks rapidly again, clearing them so he can look up at Henry, still in his polo shirt, sweat glistening along the gorgeous line of his neck that Alex so desperately wants to mark up. He’s muttering words that Alex can’t understand, but with his face turned up toward the heavens, it might as well be a benediction.

Henry’s hand moves lower as he splays his fingers over Alex’s throat, and Alex will never know for sure if it's the feeling of the leather on his skin or if it's the realization that Henry can feel his own cock fucking in and out of Alex's throat, but it hits him with a jolt, makes him groan long and low. Above him, Henry trembles, and the hand in Alex’s hair flexes, and, reflexively, Alex swallows around the head of Henry’s cock. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Henry swears softly. “You’re so _good_ , learned so well.” Alex isn’t certain if that’s directed at him or at the character he’s playing, but goddamn, he can imagine it: a pretty prince with a crush and a mouthy, inexperienced servant, utterly besotted with one another, stealing moments in the shadowy corners of the palace. Purposeful misbehavior so the prince can demand the servant come to his quarters at night for punishment that just turns out to be pleasure. Volunteering to work in the stables on the prince’s polo practice days so the servant can watch the prince riding a horse, knowing what he looks like riding cock.

Alex whimpers again, can’t fucking help it, and Henry finally says, “Suck me, come on, show me what you can do, how good you are,” and Alex feels like he’s been let loose, set free. Untethered by Henry's command of stillness, he still does as he's told. He hollows his cheeks, pillows out his tongue as he bobs up and down, swallows again and again when he's taking Henry's cock all the way. It's all the tricks he knows Henry loves, because he _has_ learned, and fuck, if that isn't so incendiary it goes straight to Alex's dick, the thought that it's only Henry he's been taught to please like this, that everything he's learned about sucking cock has been for Henry alone. Henry's _moulded_ him for this and Alex feels _grateful_ and he wants Henry to come because Henry _deserves_ it.

"Shall I come in your mouth, love?" Henry asks, quiet and rough, breaking Alex from his reverie. Alex blinks up at him and takes an impulsive risk, lifting off Henry's cock to press teasing kisses down to the base so he can lick at the soft skin of Henry's balls, draw one into his mouth to lave at it with his tongue. Instead of admonishing him, Henry swears loudly and fists his hand in Alex's hair, drags him back onto his cock and comes immediately, down Alex's throat, on his tongue.

Alex drinks it all in, the sweet saltiness, the hold on his hair, the leather pressing into his neck, the look of tender ecstasy on Henry's face above him. Henry trembles in the aftershocks and loosens his grip on Alex's hair and neck, begins petting gently at the back of his head and drifts his other hand higher to stroke his thumb over Alex's cheekbone. Alex pulls off then, turns his face further into Henry's leather clad palm, feeling suddenly desperate for something he can't identify at this moment, not while all of his senses are full of Henry.

"Very good, love," Henry says appraisingly after a minute. "Now, would you like to come?"

 _Ah, there it is_ , Alex thinks, as his senses promptly shake themselves out and zero in on his own cock, hard and leaking precome against his belly.

"Yes, sir," he says, his voice satisfyingly hoarse. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying in vain to soothe his aching jaw.

"Good. I'd like that as well," Henry says, before removing his hands from Alex entirely. Alex blinks up at him, startled at the abrupt loss of contact, and watches in total confusion as Henry tucks himself back into his polo whites, zips and buckles until nothing is out of place in the least. It's infuriating, the way Henry is able to recover so quickly when he wants to. The only signs that Alex has just given him an incredible orgasm in a goddamn tack room is a telltale flush high on his cheeks and a glittering sheen of sweat down his neck.

"But?" Alex says flatly. Henry takes Alex's chin between his thumb and forefinger and raises it so he's looking further up, forcing him to meet his darkened eyes. All the air in Alex's lungs instantly leaves them.

" _But_ you still need to be punished for your insolence," Henry says. Alex offers up a shaky inhale, terrified and so, so intrigued. "So here is my solution." Henry releases Alex's jaw only to place his hands underneath Alex's arms and fucking _haul him up_ to his feet and pull him flush against Henry's own body. Alex holds his breath, glancing at the wall of riding crops and bridles that he's suddenly extremely aware of before meeting Henry's gaze again with wide eyes. He can feel the rough material of Henry's pants graze along his bare skin - his _cock_ \- and he wants so inhumanly badly to grind down on Henry's thigh, but he's frozen in place by a strong hand on his lower back and his own dizzying anticipation.

"I'll allow you to come now," Henry says, "but only like this: you're to get a release only by rubbing off on my _stupid white pants_." He smiles smugly. Alex's brain short circuits.

But he starts fucking moving.

He grinds down against Henry's perfect thigh and lets out a loud sort of whine, shudders when Henry shushes him - "Do you want someone to hear you? Do you want to be caught like this, get me in trouble with the king for fraternizing like _this_ with a servant?" - and struggles to establish a steady rhythm at this angle, just standing. Henry can tell, takes mercy on him by grabbing hold of his hips and pulling him along as he walks slowly backward to lean against the wall. It can't be comfortable for him, considering he's got his back to a wall of freaky horse care equipment, but it means he's able to keep balance for both of them even as he presses his leg firmly between Alex's, so Alex can't find it within himself to be all too concerned.

Henry's thigh is solid and strong and upsettingly clothed against Alex's hard cock. Alex can feel Henry flexing the muscles there, under the pristine white cotton, and hides his face and whimper in the crook of Henry's neck as he grinds down again and again, aching for release. He thinks he might be begging. With his lips to Henry's skin, it might as well be his own benediction.

Henry kisses him sweetly on the temple and murmurs words of encouragement for a minute or two, and then, just when Alex feels ready to scream in desperation, he says clearly, "Don't think I didn't notice you eyeing this wall, by the way. Perhaps you need a supplement to your punishment if you can't even get yourself off just like this."

"What?" Alex mumbles, his unable to focus on anything but his cock at the moment.

"Shall it be the riding crop this time?" Henry says conversationally, moving his hands from Alex's hips to his ass. "I suppose it has to be. We haven't got enough time to properly shut you up with a bridle--" Alex gasps at the thought. "--But perhaps next time, hmm?" Alex is jostled a bit as Henry reaches for something - a crop, Alex realizes vaguely - and then there's two taps on the back of his thigh.

"Green, _green_ ," he says roughly, desperately, muffled in Henry's neck. He's rewarded with another sweet kiss on his temple before he feels a sharp jolt of pain on the bare skin of his ass. " _Ah!_ "

"That's good," Henry says. "Get loud for me. Let them hear this, let them think you're not enjoying your punishment." Another slap, and another, and Alex crying out the same surprised, pained sound before grinding down hard on Henry's thigh. 

Henry's free hand travels up and down from Alex's ass to the dip in his lower back to the strip of leather binding his wrists - he taps twice on Alex's wrist again, and Alex can't give three taps back fast enough to confirm it's _bright fucking green_ \- and back down to grab at his ass again. The leather is soft but his touch is rough, his grip punishing on Alex's freshly tender skin, and Alex _loves it_ , scrambles to move faster against Henry's leg, chasing an end that seems, maddeningly, just out of his reach.

"Please, please," he begs. Another sharp smack. "Please, _sir_."

"It's just occurred to me the mess you'll be making of these trousers when you come," Henry says, tone casual as he speaks quietly into Alex's ear. "Perhaps I should make you lick them clean before you return to your duties."

Alex's orgasm hits him with exquisite force. His shout is broken and all but soundless as he shakes through it, Henry's hands on him the only thing keeping him upright.

"Good, good, love," Henry's saying softly, pressing kisses to his hairline. "You did so well, Alex." It sounds final, but as Alex's mind comes back on board with his body, he can't help but feel like something is unfinished.

Henry gives him a look of confusion when he sinks back down to his knees. He winces at the cold floor and the goddamn hay, but leans forward anyway and--

"Oh, shit, oh, _fuck_ ," Henry hisses, watching with wide eyes as Alex begins licking his own come off of Henry's polo whites. "You don't have to--I didn't think--" Alex laps at a few drops close to the zipper, feels Henry's cock twitch and harden under the material. He looks up and blinks twice, his own question this time, and Henry gasps out, "Green, green, holy _fuck_ ," so Alex grins and continues until he's satisfied with his work.

He sits back on his heels and makes a show of licking his lips. "I didn't think I'd enjoy cleaning up my own come so much," he says, considering and casual. "When we eventually stop using condoms, I think I wanna eat you out after I come inside you." Henry makes a loud, hysterical noise.

"You're going to kill me," he says shakily. "You absolute demon. Your sexual insatiability will cause an international incident. Our two nations shall never recover."

"Oh no, not the sun finally setting on the empire," Alex says, dripping with sarcasm, but he maintains his smirk as Henry breathes himself into a sufficiently relaxed state before circling around behind Alex again. Alex almost jumps when he feels Henry begin untying him. Soreness starts to settle into Alex's muscles, now that this is over, and Alex realizes that he'd completely forgotten that his hands were tied behind his back at all.

"What is that leather anyway?" he asks, turning his head to look at Henry behind him. "Not reins, right?"

"It's a stirrup leather," Henry answers, unwinding the strip from Alex's left wrist. "It attaches to the saddle and stirrup irons so riders can dismount." Alex hums and tries to come up with a joke about dismounting, but then his hands are free and Henry's touch is tender and sweet as he rubs at Alex's wrists, fingers, palms. Alex hangs his head down, lets himself enjoy the gentle care.

"When'd you take off your gloves?" he murmurs, realizing that he's feeling Henry's warm skin rather than luxury leather. Henry huffs out a laugh behind him.

"I can wear them to spank you sometime, if you'd like," he says, running his hands up Alex's arms. He hooks his chin over Alex's shoulder in time to look down and see Alex's cock twitch at his words. "Ah, so sorry to threaten you with a good time," he says teasingly, soft, with a kiss to Alex's neck. Alex laughs roughly, a hysterical sound similar to Henry's escaping his mouth.

"For the record, as intriguing as it would be to see you with a bit in your mouth, I'm not actually interested in using a bridle on you," Henry says, rubbing hard at Alex's shoulders, working out the stiffness there.

"No desire to shut me up, then?" Alex asks, smiling down at the floor.

"Oh, I didn't say _that_ ," Henry replies brightly. "I could always employ a gag." Alex makes that sound again, jerking his head upward. He can practically hear Henry smirking behind him. "Come on, stand up for me," Henry says after a few moments, his hands drifting down Alex's spine. "Let's get you to that bench."

Henry remains on his knees even as Alex stands, keeps a steady hand low on Alex's back as he takes the few steps to the bench. Alex moves to turn around so he can sit, but Henry stops him with a firm touch to his hips, and then, moments later, Henry's hands, strong and gentle, begin massaging lotion onto the hot, sore skin of his ass.

"Oh," Alex says, quiet and a little surprised, his knees quivering. "Thank you."

"This is nothing, love," Henry says softly. "You did so well. Wait, don't sit down yet." Alex looks down as Henry pulls a duffel bag out from under the bench and unzips it to retrieve a small pillow. He leans forward and places it on the bench, gesturing for Alex to sit on it. Alex hums another grateful noise when he does; the material is soft and cool on his skin, the cushion a welcome alternative to the hardness of the bench. He only told Henry to think of the fantasy, but it turns out Henry thought of everything.

Alex _loves_ him.

"Feedback?" Henry asks as he squeezes more lotion from the bottle he had hidden somewhere into his palm and continues massaging Alex's aching muscles, starting with his feet. "Was it what you wanted? Did I check in frequently enough? Did I ever go too far?" Alex gazes at the top of his perfect head, the only thing he can see with Henry's focus so staunchly located around his ankles.

"It was perfect," he answers honestly. "Everything I wanted and more that I didn't know I wanted. Not totally unlike you." Henry looks up and smiles, soft and small and only for Alex.

"Good," he says. "You deserve nothing less." He looks down again, his hands moving expertly upward to rub soothing circles into his calves. "Even if you are mouthy and insolent," he adds cheekily. Alex grins. 

"I liked our roles, too," he says nonchalantly. "Good, solid plotline. Relatable."

"Did you really?" Henry asks. He squeezes more lotion out before gingerly tending to Alex's right knee. "I was afraid you might find it unimaginative." Alex shakes his head.

"Nah," he says. "Actually, it's got me wondering about them - the prince and the servant." Henry laughs and briefly glances up from his task.

"Whatever about?"

"Well, I just assume they don't get a happy ending like we do," Alex says, shifting as Henry's hands move to his other knee.

"On the contrary," Henry says thoughtfully, "they're able to carry on their affair in secret for many years. Eventually, the king does find out, and he immediately arranges to marry off the prince to a European princess, but on the night before he's meant to leave for the hastily planned wedding, the prince runs off with the servant instead, and they make their own way out in the world, living happily ever after, albeit a bit impoverished." Alex grins down at him in adoring silence until he looks up again, fingertips digging into Alex's thighs, only to duck his head once more to hide his sheepish smile. "What?"

"My hopeless romantic boyfriend," Alex says, delighted and overwhelmed with love. "Baby." Henry blushes, coughs, and gets to work on Alex's sore thighs.

"Yes, well, try as I may, I can't envision a universe in which I'm not madly in love with you and willing to risk everything to be with you," he says, then gives Alex a sly look. "And perhaps I missed the days of our clandestine hookups." Alex laughs.

"Yeah, the magic is gone, now that everybody knows, huh?"

"Oh, yeah, I find the sex quite boring now," Henry says dryly, giving Alex's legs one final squeeze before sitting back on his heels and reaching again into the duffel bag. "Are you alright to stand and let me dress you? I brought joggers for you to wear on the way back to the hotel."

"What? I have my jeans," Alex says, pointing to the other end of the bench where he folded his clothes earlier after Henry's first command. 

"The denim will be too harsh on your knees after all that," Henry says, getting to his feet and pulling up Alex to stand as well. The dark grey sweatpants in his hand brush against Alex's legs. He feels a surge of gratitude for their softness, for Henry, thinking of everything.

"I didn't even consider that," Alex admits.

"They wouldn't be necessary, probably, except that _someone_ wanted there to be _hay_ all over the floor, despite its egregious inauthenticity," Henry says, bending to help Alex into the sweatpants. Satisfied with them sitting low on Alex's hips, he looks up and smiles. 

"I am so in love with you," Alex says, as besotted as the servant in this fantasy, as the prince, as _his_ prince. Henry's smile grows.

"Put your shirt on, love, and let's go back," he says, leaning forward to press a kiss to Alex's mouth. "I'll draw you a bath."


End file.
